Evading Protocol
by CrazygurlMadness
Summary: Zelink AU oneshot.Yes, the Commander—she—isn’t too keen on letting you get off this one easy. The whole of headquarters knows you’ve gone off mission procedures. You’re going to get hell for it.


**Okay, I'll confess. This is like a remake of _Morning Rebuke_, only better, in my mind. The sort of quality I'd aim at every time if I was into it.**

**Also, thank you to IP, DoD and SW for the very vague influence (you'll know what I'm talking about, peeps) in the setting of this story.**

**And yes, yet another AU LoZ oneshot. So sue me. You know you like it.**

**Warning: **Language**, I guess. But I still think you should expect it anyway and that mentioning it is a waste of time. Also,** some brief innuendos

**Is it just me, or the idea of the usually freelancing Link under strict command by Zelda extremely amusing? Or is it just my sick mind?**

**Maybe I'm just insane.**

**And maybe the whole secret agents thing just got to my head.**

**Expect more little treats like this in the following months.**

**Evading Protocol**

**By CM**

"You're an asshole," Saria sing-song-ed, lightly walking down the long, crisp white hallways. Beside her, nursing his injured arm, Link furrowed a brow, wondering where Saria had learned the word 'asshole'.

"My, my," he consequently mumbled, eyes trained on his slowly detaching bandage, "such language." It was said with such flat lightness that Saria raised her eyes sideways to look at him, not once faltering.

"If my suddenly vulgar vocabulary has not gotten you, then something is up."

Link's previously lowered brow hitched high on his forehead. "Ah, so it was all deliberate. A test of my will, I see."

"Of course it was. Have I ever done anything without a reason?" Link's lips stretched into a tight smirk, and Saria's eyes widened suddenly. She raised a hand, as though to stop Link from saying a word. "Never mind that. I know what you're thinking about. It doesn't count."

"What do you mean," Link asked, feigning innocence, "it doesn't count? Of course it counts. I remember it so clearly. It was brilliant, in a thoughtless way. Ah, I was proud as punch."

"You would be," Saria grimly said. "I now remember just who you tend to hang out with."

"Now, now," Link got tired and roughly tugged on the blood stained bandage, wincing and gritting his teeth as the scab ripped off his skin, allowing fresh blood to ooze through. "Don't be so hard on Sheik. You know he's the sort to get upset when people associate him with their very own mischief."

"You would know."

Link grinned, keeping his eyes focused on his wound. "Yes, I would. But that one time, Saria, I'll hand it to you, it took me a whole three seconds to scrape my jaw off the floor."

"Right before you started laughing like a madman." They turned a corner, and another long white hallway appeared before them.

"I wouldn't say it was like a madman, per say, but it was certainly one of the most unexpectedly funny moments of my life. Seeing you hurl that huge cream cake with such animosity at Mido—Good times."

"I didn't hurl it." Saria's cheekbones had gone a bright pink. "I just… tossed it with a bit more force than usual."

"Whatever you say," Link was still grinning widely. "I can remember Mido's face the moment his face came in contact with all that cream… Truly a spectacle any soul would pay to witness."

"Glad my anger fits are of amusement to you." Saria's eyes narrowed. "And from that change of subject, don't think you're off it. I know something is up, I can see it in your eye. Spill."

Link glanced sideways at her. "Sorry, Saria, confidential matters."

"It has to do with that gash on your arm. Speaking of which, you really ought not to mistreat it like that." She scowled funnily. "It's not a pleasing sight to the common man."

Link blinked, then looked back at his wound. It was true that, with the dark purple bruise all around it, the dark red dead skin peeling slightly and dark pink scar tissue showing only partially, in the middle of dark brown scabs and bright red blood oozing and shining in the artificial lighting, Link's arm looked a vision of ugliness.

"I like it. What's wrong with it?" Link's face showed he was truly clueless. Saria's mouth fell open slightly, contemplating Link's blank look. Finally, she said:

"You know what? Never mind." And she proceeded to walk on quietly. Link blinked, looked at his wound, then back at her.

"Oh, for Farore's sake, Saria. It needs to breathe. It's been all bandaged up since I came in!"

"You mean… Four hours ago? On doctor's orders?"

He looked uncomfortable. "I hate bandages. It's just not natural."

"Link," Saria said, exasperated, "for as much as I know, had it not been for those bandages, you'd have either lost all your blood or one or more limbs in a previous mission. You'd be a dead man now. Especially considering all the missions you've been on."

"I like to refer to my 'missions' as 'quests'," Link seriously said, though he spoke with a laughing undertone.

"See? This is what I mean when I say you're a bit screwed up."

"Oh," Link brought his uninjured hand up to his mouth, eyes wide, looking like a cartoon image of shock. "Really. Must you be vulgar so?"

Annoyed, Saria nevertheless smiled tightly. "Maybe you'll be able to report to the Commander now that you've had your rest. The Commander's been waiting for it, you know. A six hours delay wouldn't be allowed if it hadn't been on doctor's orders. So the Commander abided by it, but not happily. I wouldn't push my luck, if I were you. You know the Commander."

"So impersonal," Link said lightly, though this time around, his eyes looked serious. " 'Commander'. So perfectly unisex, so completely ignorant of her true nature."

"The Commander hates it when referred to as a woman. You know it. That's why I'm telling you. Don't push it. The Commander—"

"She."

"Yes, the Commander—she—isn't too keen on letting you get off this one easy. The whole of headquarters knows you've gone off mission procedures. You're going to get hell for it." Saria's face cleared up. "Oh, maybe that's why you're so out of it. No wonder."

"Mission procedures didn't abide by my code of ethics."

Saria sighed loudly. "Try telling her about it, Link. And what are you even talking about?"

Link opened his mouth to speak, but chose to shut it. He stubbornly stared ahead. Saria shook her head.

"Well, maybe if you'd gone according to mission procedures, you wouldn't have a new scar on your record. And you wouldn't be dripping blood on the newly cleaned floor."

Both pair of eyes fell to the floor, where indeed dark red spots were appearing at Link's feet. In the artificial lights, they almost looked like black paint, only more liquid.

"Oh. Oops."

"No kidding." Saria looked back up at Link. They'd stopped before a white sliding door at the end of the hallway. "You should go in, Link."

"I should, shouldn't I?"

"Don't tell me our number one agent is scared of his own commander?"

"Not scared," Link corrected, staring apprehensively at the white sliding panel. "Just un-eager."

"Just go and get it over with." Saria turned to walk away. "I'll be waiting in the cafeteria. And I swear that if Mido tries another move on me, he'll be getting another helping of cream cake."

Link laughed nervously, not even bothering to look back at her. His eyes were fixed on the door, and a trickle of blood was sliding down his arm, itching. He didn't want to bloody his hands more than necessary, so he thoughtlessly tensed his arm to ward off the itch. In his mind, uneasiness was taking over. The complete amplitude of his earlier actions was coming back as the somniferous injection's effects ebbed away.

He was in deep.

Well. He'd asked for it.

He took a step forward. The door slid sideways at the movement detection.

The Commander's office was dark, lights off, a stark contrast with the white purity of the hallways. He opened his eyes wider, willing them to accustom themselves to the sudden dim lighting. Behind him, the door hissed shut, blinking the last ray of white light out of existence. His eyes had needed no more time to get used to the dark. It was a learned reflex, one he'd taken years to train. Now, his eyes were like a cat's, though they didn't glow.

He spotted the Commander, sitting at the large, official, heavy oak desk, which he didn't think suited her. She was bent over paperwork, penning things down in the obscurity. He was used to the night, but he still knew common sense:

"Writing in the dark isn't good for you."

Without even looking up, the Commander's feminine voice carried to him, muffled by the soundproof walls and still air. "Disobeying command deck orders isn't good for you."

Link said nothing, but he had to force the corner of his lip not to lift upwards. She added nothing, acting as though his presence was unimportant, as though he was a mere object that could afford to wait. He didn't mind. It gave him time to assess his surroundings.

He'd been here many times before, in good or bad terms. He was trained to recognize decors, to memorize details. Like that frame on the wall, for instance, which had been crooked for the past three months, or the plant in the corner, near the air duct, looking weak and dry. Or perhaps that one spot near the file cabinets where the trim carpet sunk a bit, because of the faulty floor. Or the large windows behind the Commander, giving out on the vast city skyscrapers, the lot of which looked as grey and dull as the rest of her office.

The only spot of colour, it seemed, was in her vivid blue eyes, and her lips when, on good days, she added gloss that made her lips look like candy.

Link was fond of candy. Not that she'd ever know what comparison his calculating mind came up with.

It was early. Outside, sunlight had only barely begun to touch the buildings and only a few jet cars circulated about in the air, bright yellow light reflecting off the windshields. The sky was still tainted by the dark ink of night, but out of sight, Link could guess a pale pink sunrise.

The fact that the Commander was in so early was not a good sign. She had probably been called in around one in the morning, around the time where he'd gone off schedule and cut off all contact with main base. She'd probably been told that their number one agent was off-com, that he could very likely be dead, and should retrieval be attempted?

He didn't want to imagine what her thoughts were all that much, but it still made him a bit curious. What sort of punishment could she possibly impart onto an agent who had completed a mission successfully? Agreed, he'd cut off contact—un-recommended and condemning as can be—and had modified all mission parameters, and scrapped the jet car the agency had leased him to bits.

But didn't the end justify the means? Besides, the car was expendable.

He mustered the guts to say, "If you want an explanation…"

She looked up, then, piercing and intense. He saw, with only a hint of a surprise, that her lips had been painted today. Was she in a better mood than he'd at first suspected? He showed none of his thoughts or emotions, focusing instead on her gaze.

"I didn't call you in for an explanation, Forester, but I would appreciate it nonetheless. And make it brief."

Link sighed, shoving his hands in his slacks' pockets, disregarding the fact that he was staining his work shirt with his own blood. "I disagreed with mission proceed number 8."

"Refresh my memory." Her deep blue eyes returned to her paperwork, but Link's eyes never left her.

"Mission Proceed Number Eight," Link recited, slowly and deliberately, knowing the procedures by heart, having memorized them for practicality, "Take out both guards using weaponry acquired in Mission Proceed Number Six. Mission Proceed Number Six, retrieve sniper tied under car wreckage in field."

The Commander was silent, then asked, curtly, with the feminine voice he found didn't suit official and military business, "You disagreed with this procedure step?"

"I hardly consider murder like a procedure, Ma'am."

She sharply looked at him. "I believe I asked you to address me as 'Commander'."

"You did. Sorry." He didn't look it.

"Why did you disagree with it?" Perhaps it was play of his imagination, but she sounded exasperated.

"Murder was not a necessary step for an agent of my calibre," Link declared smartly. "Which was why I used my own proceeds to avoid taking lives."

She said nothing for a long while, contemplating his blank features. Then, slowly, she asked, "Why did you cut off communication?"

Link willed his lips not to turn up. He took on a nasal voice, and said, in a perfect imitation of Mido Greene's—the navigator—tone, "Forester, get moving. Forester, stop fooling around. Forester, you aren't following mission procedures. Forester, you have to take it from the right. Forester, you should have just taken the bastard out. Forester, Forester, Forester."

He looked at her. He almost smiled victoriously when he saw her stifle a grin.

"I see. So the problem was of a relational nature."

"It was."

She nodded slowly. In the rapidly brightening morning, it seemed as though the golden light caught onto her hair, making it shine a beautiful blonde. The light also caught on the gloss of her lips, giving them relief and a shine which made him uneasy. Even the business outfit she was wearing seemed to taunt him, toying with his mind and imagination. He had to forcefully snap himself off the track, lest it show on his face.

"In that case, Forester, I have a last question."

He nodded curtly, waiting.

"Why are you bleeding on my carpet?"

Link blinked, looked down. Indeed, he'd stained the light grey rug. Now, his discomfort became apparent.

"Oh, uh, sorry."

"Where did you get that wound, and why haven't the doctors fixed it up?"

Link looked sheepish, avoiding her gaze. "Um, improvised mission proceeds don't always work out wonderfully. But it was better than having two murders on my hands. And, well, the doctors did fix it up. But I chose to dismiss the bandage."

He held up the bundle of thick, stained cotton fabric, smiling uncomfortably. She'd leaned forward to examine his wound with medical interest, and he had a too good view of her collar line. She moved back into her chair, contemplating his miserable wound with a blank face. Then, she stood.

"Commander?"

Without a word, she stepped around her immense desk, reaching to grasp his sticky wrist. It suddenly struck him how much smaller she was, compared to him. Sitting behind the desk made her seem slim, but he'd always believed it was a play of the mind.

She really was a petite woman, judging from her much smaller hands.

He watched in surprise as she took a wad of paper tissues from the box on her desk and started to dab at his wound, the way she would nurse a lover. It sent a pleasant shiver down his spine, but he willed himself to stay impassive.

She wiped the best she could the thick blood, slowly, deliberately, until finally it was no longer running. She discarded the tissues in her wastebasket, but did not let go of his arm, curiously. He waited, only to find her looking directly into his eyes.

"Perhaps it is time I told you exactly what happens to those who wake me up so early in the morning."

Link nervously gulped back his edginess. She trailed a finger up and down his arm thoughtfully, as though she didn't realize that she made goose bumps rise in her midst.

"You see, the only people I usually allow to bother me at such a crucial time of my night are either complex missions' agents... or lovers." She smiled up at him. "I do hope you know that you fall into only one of these categories."

"Unfortunately."

His comment was not even met with a curt glare. Instead, she laughed. Laughed! As though he hadn't shown suggestive and disrespectful conduct! Amazing. Impossible!

"Link Forester, it is, or so I'm told, not your kind to disobey higher orders."

"No, Commander. It isn't." Something thrilled along his ever nerve, and a strange presentiment nagged at him.

"And therefore, it isn't in your habits to turn away from the procedures that I personally approve of."

"No, Commander. It isn't."

"Yet, I'm told that until you came into this facility, you hadn't been too keen on following orders. May I enquire as to why your behaviour has changed from the rebellious genius that you once were to the effective agent I have before me?"

Surprised by the compliment, Link mumbled, "Perhaps because the orders were suddenly issued by a much more charming commander."

"I thought it might be the case," she said, smiling, "but I didn't dare flatter myself. Thank you for saying so anyhow." She raised a hand so it came to rest on his shoulder, and turned so they were face to face. "Well then, let me make myself clear. I cannot afford to have an agent who won't obey to everything I ask of him."

Link, ready to protest, was silenced by a raised finger.

"I understand that you are not a bad agent, only a disobedient one. I would appreciate having you under my command still, and so I'll give you a chance to redeem yourself."

He almost breathed a long sigh in relief, but then he saw her smiling face.

"Forester, I heard rumours."

Shit.

"I want you to answer me truthfully. Your answers will remain completely confidential."

Oh…. Shit…

"Is it true you confessed to wanting to… what was the word...? Oh. Yes. Wanting to 'take me suddenly,lustfully and intrusively'?" She looked amused.

His eyes widened in stunned disbelief, mouth opening and closing like a fish. "This is… There's no way… How did… Oh my Din…"

"Please be more coherent, Link."

"I… I—It—Well… I…"

"Link."

He averted his eyes and gazed at the stained carpet. "Um. There have been rumours of such a thing, yes."

"Are they true?"

It was impossible to guess what her thoughts were from her tone alone. He had no choice. He went for it. "As a matter of fact, I think that not being attracted to you is like trying to split an atom with bare hands." He managed to keep a straight face, even though his palms were sweating.

She seemed to contemplate this for a moment. Then, as Link carefully looked up to measure the damage done, she smiled.

"Link, I think not being attracted to you is like trying to drink the ocean." With that, she pulled on his loose tie, and brought his face close to hers. "Forester, be a good little agent and follow this new procedure."

He nodded slowly, throat tight and eyes wide.

"Proceed number one, and from that point on, the procedures are carte blanche… Kiss the Commander."

"Understood, Commander." Link managed a smirk. "I think I could get used to this white card thing."

"Please proceed without delay, Forester."

Duly reprimanded, Link moved on to making it up to Zelda Harkinian, Commander of East Hyrule headquarters.

* * *

**Feel free to review. I might add shots in the same vein, but for now, consider it a single piece with no sequel or sister fics.**

**Love,**

**CM**


End file.
